If I got it, you got it

Kim was a tall, attractive sister that I used to work with at McDonalds several years ago. She dropped fries and worked the drive-thru while I flipped burgers in the grill. Even with braces, she still possessed a glowing outer-beauty that held my attention captive every night we closed together. She had a split personality that I was drawn to. One minute, she was a hood chick with a quick tongue; the next, she was a reserved, college-girl type. Even though my homeboy Dwayne told me she was crazy, I had a serious crush on her, and she knew it. Every now and then, she would catch me checkin’ her out and flash me a “caught ya lookin'” smile that made me blush. She made it a treat to come to work every night.
Closing was always an interesting experience because of the explicit discussion that went on between the crew. Most of the time, sex was the topic. As ovens were wiped down, grills cleaned and floors scrubbed, there was talk of anal sex, the ever-popular fellatio, and, of course, the three-way. Nothing was sacred. I discovered that I worked with some freaks. It was all educational for me; I was more of a listener than a participant in the discussions because I was(and still am, to be honest) a bit inexperienced in the subject.
Kim always came off like a sex-expert during these talks, as if she had tried it all. Listening to her, you couldn’t help but notice a hint of bitterness as she spoke of men, relationships, and intercourse. There was definitely a very large, very deep hole in her heart. The way she talked about it, sex for her was more of a sport. It was never about love making or romance. It was a joust between two opposing forces trying to conquer each other.
One night, my partner Derek who worked the front counter, described to everyone how it felt to catch “crabs” and the painful process of having them removed. It wasn’t an easy thing to listen to. From there, the discussion ventured into the subject of people we knew with STDs. It wasn’t a very serious discussion, just more of a “who has what” type of thing. Someone mentioned HIV.
“If I had that, I wouldn’t tell nobody,” Kim weighed in. Kim was always saying something off-the-wall, so no one took her seriously at that moment. The way she said it, it sounded like a perfectly-timed punchline. We all brushed it off and kept talking.
Several nights later, the crew was engaged in the usual sex talk as we closed up shop. This time, I decided to inject some consciousness into the discussion.
“Y’all ain’t worried about catchin’ AIDS or somethin’ like that?” I asked, awaiting a response. Everyone got quiet.
“If I had that, I wouldn’t even tell nobody,” said Kim. This time, it didn’t sound like a joke. It got so quiet, you could hear the mop water drying on the floor.
“Why you always be sayin’ that?” asked Roy, a drive-thru guy who had a knack for saying what everyone was thinking but was afraid to say.
“Cause I wouldn’t, that’s why,” Kim responded.
“So you wouldn’t tell your boyfriend or your husband if you had AIDS?” asked Roy. “You would still have sex with ’em?”
“Yup,” said Kim in a matter-of-fact way.
“What if me and you was kickin’ it?” I asked. “We s’posed to be cool, ma. I know you wouldn’t do me like that.”
Kim didn’t say a word. She just closed her eyes and gave me that smile she would flash when she caught me gazing at her. I took that as a warning.
There’s a “Kim” in almost every college campus, club, church pew, and place of employment. She will have sex with you even if she knows she is infected with a sexually transmitted disease. The way she sees it, she has it and she wants to spread it to as many people as she can. The “Kim” I described is real and still out there. She’s very sexually active, and if you approach her at the right moment with the right lines, there’s a high possibility that she’ll let you stroke her. Should you meet this female, use extreme caution. If she’s got something, she won’t tell you. Oh yeah, by the way, Kim isn’t her real name.